


Youngest Winchester[compiled version]

by Bool1989



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bool1989/pseuds/Bool1989
Summary: Surviving as a Winchester is no joke, expecially if you're not one of the main characters.So how do you survive being a Winchester? Being around other Winchesters of course!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	1. Origin

**Adam**

Winfair Elementary School let out at 3:30 pm, and it was 3:15. I tapped my pencil impatiently, wishing that minute hand on the clock would move faster so I didn’t have to keep listening to the teacher about grammar, something about prefixes. God, being a kid again was so boring.

Looking at the clock again, I noticed that the hand that counted seconds was being particularly slow, and with a sigh of frustration, I looked out the window, to my left. There wasn’t much to see, just a typical green lawn, the road called 6th avenue, and a neighborhood of houses on the other side, obscured by trees.Minnesota was mostly a flat place, with little variation in the surroundings, and little room for a view.

In my past life, I had lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, a place that had mountains, and sat in a rift valley. Here in Windom, Minnesota, it was flat. Really flat.

Oh well, at least it wasn’t the deep south, where the vegetation was so thick it was claustrophobic for people used to wide open spaces.

I glanced at the clock again. A minute had passed, and the teacher was still droning on about prefixes.

Funny thing, this new life I had found myself in: when I had first woken up at the age of three, I simply thought that I had time traveled to the past, and was living a different life than my original one. My name was Adam Milligan, and I didn’t realize the significance of that for many years, not until four years later when I had found an old, faded photo of a man, a man that seemed vaguelyfamiliar to me, but I just couldn’t put my finger on why.

I had found the photo while helping my new mother, Kate Milligan, reorganize her home office. When I had asked her who the person in the photo was, she had spoken a name that chilled me to the bone: John Winchester.

At that moment, all of the pieces of the puzzle had come together, and I realized the significance of who I was and where I was.

I was the kid that had gotten mauled by monsters called ghouls in the TV show, and I was in the supernatural universe, the universe of a horror show that had gone on for over a decade.

I glanced at the clock again. There was five minutes left until the end of day bell rang. The teacher, who’s name I hadn’t bothered to learn cause I had larger concerns, had finished talking about prefixes and was now handing out homework sheets. It was the third grade, the last year I would attend Winfair, and almost my birthday. I would be turning nine in a few weeks.

I wasn’t planning on having a birthday party, as I hadn’t bothered to befriend anyone at the school, as they were children, and I wasn’t particularly fond of children. I was known as the loner boy, the guy who spent lunch reading books on supernatural lore (whatever I could find at the local library), and spent recess running laps around the playground. The adults probably thought I was weird, and the children avoided me, I had no idea why.

I didn’t mind, though. Less time spend dealing with children meant more time to spend on my interests.

The bell finally rang, and I instantly jumped up, packing away the homework sheet in my bag and dashing out of the room before the teacher could say another word. It was Thursday, and we had tomorrow and Monday off this week cause of labor day next week.

I was glad to have a long weekend, cause I planned to use it constructively. I planned to nag mom about dad all weekend, so that by the time labor day rolls around, she’ll want to call him just to get me off her case.

I stepped out of the school doors, and walked down the paved pathway to 6th avenue, before coming to a halt on the sidewalk. Go home, or go to the library? I thought for a moment, and recalled that mom had said she was working a late shift tonight, so she wouldn’t be home. Home was only a short walk from the school, so I had no problem getting there on my own.

I was itching to go to the library first though, even though it was a longer walk away. Mom preferred that I did my homework as soon as I got home, but it was a four day weekend, I had plenty of time.

Destination decided, I turned south, walking down 6th ave. To get to the library, I had to go down to 10th street, make a left, then make a right at 4th ave.

When I had finally figured out where and when I was, I decided right then and there that I wasn’t going to be helpless. After all, I didn’t want to get mauled by a ghoul like in the show. I didn’t know if I was the right kind of person to be a hunter, but I suspected that I may have to become one, in the end, if only to protect myself.

The thing was, the Ghouls were the least of my problems. My real problem was Michael. I wasn’t really interested in becoming a meat suit for some douche-bag arch-angel, and I definitely wasn’t interested in being tortured by said douche-bag arch-angel’s sycophants into saying yes.

The thing was, to become a hunter, I needed training, and there was only one person who could realistically provide that training, and that was John Winchester.

However, it wasn’t just enough to call up John Winchester and ask him to train me. No, I had to show him I had the potential to be a hunter. To that end, I had asked Mom to sign me up for martial arts training, and started taking morning runs around our block. In my spare time when I wasn’t at martial arts training, or at school, I was at the library looking up lore on monsters, demons, ghosts, angels, you name it.

Fortunately, I had discovered that the Masquerade was surprisingly porous, as much of the lore I had looked up in the local library seemed to match up with what I remembered about the show.

Now, a year later, I felt I was ready. A year studying mixed martial arts didn’t really mean much, but what really mattered was that I had made the effort, that I was willing to improve myself. And the reading about mythology and monsters? Meant to plant the idea in his head that I was trainable.

Then, all I would have to do is ask him what he did for a living. If he lied, I could call him out on it. And if he told the truth…

I suspected it wouldn’t take much to convince him that once a Winchester, always a Winchester.

**John**

He’s wrapping up a hunt when he gets the call. A pyre was burning a werewolf that he and Dean had just killed when when his hunter cell phone goes off, the phone with the number he’s had since cellphones where a thing. On the screen he sees an unknown number.

“This is John Winchester,” he states after he flips it open and holds it up to his ear.

“John?” said a female voice that he found vaguely familiar. “It’s Kate Milligan.”

Kate Milligan, he knew that name. His mind flashed back to a hunt, about nine years ago, where he got injured and ended up in the hospital. There he had met Kate, and had spent a few weeks with her to let off some steam.

“Kate, is everything alright?” John asked worriedly. He had given Kate his number before he left, and had told her to only call him if she felt she was in danger.

“No, no, everything’s fine,” She said hurriedly. “It’s just… there’s something we need to talk about.”

John frowned thoughtfully, what could she have to talk about? “Hang on, give me a minute.”

He pressed the phone against his chest so that Kate doesn’t hear him, then turns to Dean, who is still watching the fire.

“Dean, go back to the car,” he ordered. “wait for me there.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean said without another word. John waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to the phone.

“What is it you wish to talk about, Kate,” John asked with his eye on the fire.

For a long moment she was quiet, before John heard a sigh. “Look, John, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. You have a son.”

Whatever he thought she was going to say, it wasn’t that.

“What do you mean, I have a son?” he asked in a bare tone of voice?

“After you left...” she paused. “I took a pregnancy test, ‘cause, you know, you didn’t use protection, and it was positive.”

“And you carried the boy to term?” John fought to keep his voice level. “Kate… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of what you had told me,” she said quietly. “You said you risk your life every day on your job, and I didn’t want Adam to get to know his father, only to lose him on one of his hunts. I didn’t want to expose him to what you do. I wanted him to have a normal life, to grow up to be a doctor like me.”

John frowned. As much as he hated it, that was as good a reason as any.

“What changed your mind?” he asked steadily.

Kate didn’t speak for long moment. “A year ago I… we were reorganizing my home office, and Adam found my picture of you. He asked me who was in the picture, and when I told him your name and that you were his father, he seemed to recognize you.”

John, who had started to get used to the idea that he had another son, froze, and felt cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. “What?”

“Oh I only realized it in retrospect, but then he started to do strange things after he saw that picture,” Kate continued on, a worried tone in her voice. “He’s always been very smart and mature for a little boy, but once he saw that picture, he asked to join a martial arts training program, his words, not mine, and asked for protein focused diet. I’ve caught him exercising on his own, and is always at the library when he isn’t at school, or training, or running. He reads books on mythology when he comes home, mostly about monsters. It was only when he asked me if he could see you when I realize just how much he had changed.”

John clenched his fist so hard that he could feel his nails biting into his palm. His little boy… His little boy was gone and replaced by something, either a skinchanger, or a ghoul. Or worst… possessed by a demon. His little boy that he would never know, because he had never bothered to check up on Kate after he had left.

“Kate, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he said with a harsh whisper. “Whatever you do, don’t let him know you’re on to him.”

“What?” Kate asked in a surprised voice.

“I’ll get there as soon as I can,” He continued. “In the meantime, get some silver cutlery, but don’t use it yet. Check the local news and see if you can find anything about local graves being disturbed, or any strange disappearances in your area.”

“What? Why?” Kate asked in a shaky voice.

“If he’s behaving like this, he’s either been replaced, or possessed,” John said grimly. “If you feel like he’s going to hurt you, get yourself a silver knife and some holy water. And a gun. Keep a close eye on him and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call me back if you see or hear anything on the news.”

John didn’t bother to listen to her reply, simply snapping his phone close, and walking back to the car.

“What was that, dad?” Dean asked when he got there.

“Another hunt,” John replied shortly.

**Dean**

It was two days later – they had gone to pick up Sam from the motel, then were on their way to who knows where. Dad hadn’t said where they were going, just that he would need both of their help with this case. This was only the fourth time Dad had taken both of them on a case, he was still very over protective of Sammy, and so most of the time left him behind while Dean and him worked a case, or he would go alone.

It was four o’clock in the morning when Dean was awoken by Dad talking on the phone.

“None?” his dad said. “and no one’s disappeared lately? Ok, that rules out ghouls, will have to check the other two- Wait, what? Kate… Ok fine, but we’ll still check. No, wait for us to get there first, I don’t know what he will do to you if you find out… fine, fine, just wait for us. Ok, see you soon.”

Dad snapped his phone close, and turned his attention back to the road.

“Kate, is she a hunter?” asked Dean a moment later.

“No, she’s a doctor,” said Dad shortly, not taking his eyes off the road. “Her kid has been displaying some strange behavior lately.”

“What kind of behavior,” asked Sam from behind them. It appeared he had also been woken up by Dad’s phone call.

Dad was silent for a moment, before sighing. “Listen, there’s something you boys need to know. Back in 1990, I met Kate while recovering from a hunting injury. I guess we both felt something for each other, so I stayed with her for two weeks.”

Dean gave his signature smirk. “Finally got some action, huh? Go Dad!”

Dad gave him a strained smile.

“Wait, you mean you left us alone for two whole weeks just so you could spend time with some girl?” said Samantha the party pooper.

“Ah leave him alone Sammy,” Dean replied, turning around and slapping him on the shoulder. “After all he’s been through, Dad deserved some ‘me time’.”

Sam just gave him a bitch face that said ‘don’t call me Sammy, jerk’.

“Yes, well,” Dad spoke, turning to look at them. “two days ago, I got a call back from her. It turns out she had a kid by me. A boy.”

At those words, Dean felt his insides tighten. Another kid, a little brother.

“And you said this kid was acting strange?” Dean asked, still displaying his signature smirk.

“Yes,” Dad said shortly. “A year ago, Kate showed him a picture of me, and he recognized me, even though I’ve never met the kid. Then he started asking for things.”

“What kind of things?” asked Sam.

Dad pulled out a phone that Dean recognized as his hunter phone. “I record all my calls on this phone, listen to the second to last one.”

Dean flipped open the phone, searched for the phone recording, then his play. After listening to the rather short recording, he passed the phone to Sam.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Dean said after thinking for a moment. “That’s strange, but I don’t think it’s our kind of strange.”

“Yeah, the recognizing you thing is weird,” said Sam thoughtfully. “but everything else? Kate said he was smart, maybe it’s just the way he is.”

“Yeah, if anything it sounds like he’s training to be…” Dean trailed off.

“Training to be what?” asked Dad irritably.

“Training to be one of us,” said Sam quietly, looking at Dean.

For a long time, Dad was quiet, focused on the road.

“There’s no way he knows,” Dad said finally. “Kate hasn’t told him. Whatever is going on with that boy, we’ll deal with it.”

“But what if he’s just an innocent boy?” asked Sam. “I mean, we can’t just off him for acting strange.”

Dad frowned grimly. “We’ll see.”

OO

Four hours later they arrived at Kate’s place, a two story white house that sat on a block corner. The place looking boringly average to Dean, and he sighed as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door.

“Remember, whatever you do, don’t let the kid know you’re on to him,” said Dad as they stood in front of the door. “That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean and Sam said together. Dad turned and knocked on the door. A few moments later, a blonde wearing scrubs with a black overcoat opened the door. Dean noticed that she was very pale, probably from fear and worry.

“John!” She spoke a moment later.

“Kate.” said Dad with a smile, embracing her.

The hug was thankfully short, Kate looked at Dean and Sam. “Who are they, John?”

“Um, well…” John trailed off and rubbing the back of his neck. “I never told you this Kate, but I did have other children.”

He clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “This is Dean, and this is Sam.”

He clapped his other hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Uh… oh,” said Kate soundlessly, before standing up straighter. “Well, you’re all welcome, we were about to have breakfast.”

Without another word, she turned and walked back into the house. After looking at each other, Dean and Sam followed Dad into the house.

The inside of the house was a bit cozy. To the right was a staircase, and to the left was a living room. Just down the hall there appeared to be a kitchen.

“Adan? Your father’s here!” Kate called up the stairs.

“Coming!” a distant voice called back.

A few moments later, the kid came down the stairs and Dean got his first real look at him. The kid was young, a scrawny little thing with dirty blond hair like Dean himself, but a face that resembled his mom.

The kid stopped on the third to last stair, and looked at them. “Uh, I didn’t know I had three of them.”

Dean chuckled. “No, Sam and me are just your older brothers.”

“Oh,” that seemed to stop him short. He looked at Dad. “Then… you’re my father?”

“Yes, I’m your father, Adam,” John replied after a moment.

Adam smiled, a calm but happy smile that seemed slightly off, and he jumped forward, tackling Dad in a big hug.

**Adam**

It was pretty obvious from the start that John lived a rough life; his face was covered in scars, no doubt from hunts. His left cheek had been lacerated at some point, by what looked like three claws, a nasty looking scar ran over his right eye brow, and his nose looked like it had been broken many, many times.

I kept stealing glances at him as we sat down to eat breakfast, crepes if you can believe it. My mother preferred crepes over pancakes for some reason, I didn’t know why.

“In this family we say grace before each meal,” said Mom after she had finished serving everyone, preventing Dean from digging right in. He gave her a mutinous look.

“Lord, we thank you for the food you have given us this day,” said Mom after we all grasped hands and looked down with our eyes closed. “and we thank you for every meal that we share in the future, Amen.”

Had I not known that God was actually real in this universe, I would have been annoyed that I had to deal with this every morning, as I had been an atheist in my past life. But now, while I didn’t worship the man, I did understand that he could make my life very hard if he wanted to.

Dean quickly stuffed his face with crepes, while the rest of us took our time to eat. When I picked up my knife and fork, I immediately noticed something odd. This wasn’t our usual cutlery, this cutlery was that unusual off white color of silver. Hmm. Something was off here.

After cutting up my crepe and taking a bite, I put my fork down and picked up my glass of water, taking a sip. I instantly noticed the difference in taste, it didn’t taste like our usual tap water. Instead, this water had a more metalic taste, like it had been contained in some flask for a while. I looked over the top of my cup to notice that John, Dean, Sam, and Kate were all staring at me intensely, before looking away once they noticed I was looking at them.

I was being tested.

“Ms. Milligan, I need to use the bathroom real quick, were can I find it?” Dean asked suddenly.

“Uh, upstairs, to the right,” said Mom, who was a bit startled.

I looked at Dean as he left, and turned to glance at John, who was focused on his crepes.

I was being tested, and having passed the first two tests, Dean was going to rifle through my bedroom to if there was anything to indicate that I was a monster, or worst.

Well that just sucked. I had hoped, after noticing Johns scars that I could use them get John into confessing that he was a hunter that hunted monsters. But, if they were testing me, there must have been some indication that I was more than what I seemed.

Which meant I couldn’t question John about his scars as a through-line to his career as a hunter, not if I didn’t want to arouse their suspicions. Which mean this whole venture was a waste of time.

Damn it. I had hoped that I would be able to start my training as a hunter before they left, but as it was, I was going to have to wait until their next visit.

“So how long are you guys going to be in town?” I asked a few minutes later.

“Just tonight,” John replied a moment later. “We were passing through on a business trip, thought I’d stop and say hello after Kate called.”

Normally I would have commented on the fact that he was dragging his children along on the business trip, or ask what he did for a living, but now knowing that they were suspicious of me, all I said was “Oh. Well, thank you for coming, um, Dad.”

John smiled a small, crinkled smile. “You’re welcome, son.”

A moment later, Dean walked back into the dining room, and sat back down. When John looked at him, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. After he saw this, John sighed, and put his cutlery down.

“Kate, can I talk to you alone for a moment?” he asked, standing up.

“Sure,” She replied, standing up too, and they both walked out, probably going to her home office.

“So, anyone want to play some Star Fox?” I asked.

“Yeah, that sound great,” said Dean exuberantly, jumping off his seat.

“You two go ahead, I’m gonna get more pancakes,” said Sam.

“It’s Crepes, dude, pancakes are fluffier,” I corrected him as we walked out.

“Oh,” said Sam, nonplussed.

OO

Dean and I spent the morning playing Star Fox, with Sam joining us eventually. It was kind of fun, to play with my brothers, Dean was the goofy type while Sam was a bit more serious. Around mid morning, I felt I had built a strong enough rapport with them(mainly through letting them beat me at Star Fox) that I felt I could take a risk.

“So, where did Dad get all those scars?” I asked after Dean had beaten me for the 14th time.

Dean coughed at the unexpected question.

“Hunting accident,” said Sam with a completely straight face.

“Hunting accident, huh?” I replied, rubbing my chin. “What, did a bear get a hold of him or something?”

“Or something,” said Dean, looking over at Sam.

I shrugged, focusing on the tv again.

Around noon, Mom came to get us for lunch, and she seemed much happier, probably because I had passed all the tests.

When we walked back into the kitchen, John took me aside.

“You mother told me that your birthday is in a few weeks,” he said kindly. “is there anything you would like as a present?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” I replied hurriedly. “Just you and Sam and Dean being here is present enough.”

“Adam, I would still like to give you _something_ ,” John said persistently.

“Well, what about a BB gun?” I asked. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“Alright, I’ll get you one before I leave tomorrow,” John said with a smile, before hugging me.

OO

We all spent the rest of the day in the living room, watching tv. I didn’t ask anymore questions regarding what John and my older brothers did for a living, for I had sensed that while I was out of the water, I will still walking on thin ice with John. He likely didn’t suspect that I was a monster anymore, but he was still going to keep an eye on me.

I was going to have to wait until his next visit to bring up the possibility of his training me to be a hunter, but at least I had managed to establish a rapport with him and my older brothers for now.

My bedtime was 8 o’clock, so when it was 7:30, I bid them good night, and went up to my room. Our house wasn’t big enough for a guest room, so they would be sleeping in the living room.

After I had brushed my teeth, taken a shower, and gotten into my pajamas, my mother came in to the room to tuck me in.

“Thank you mom,” I said, as she adjusted the blanket on my bet.

“What for, honey?” she asked, a bit distracted.

“For bringing my dad and my brothers here,” I replied with a smile. “I’m glad I got to know them.”

She smiled back. “You’re welcome, Adam.”

She bent down to kiss me on the forehead. “Goodnight, Adam.”

“Goodnight, Mom,” I replied, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

With last look, she turned the light off, and walked back down to the living room.

OO

I didn’t know exactly what woke me up later that night, but when I did wake up, I realized I felt chilled to the bone. I had been sleeping on my side, so I turned over to look around, and that’s when I saw them; sickly green eyes looking down at me, not a meter away. Everything else was darkness.

The sight of the green eyes sent chills down my spine. I knew, somehow, instinctively, that whatever was attached to those green eyes was pure evil, and it froze me on the spot.

“Shhhhh,” the Thing whispered, and then I felt something, a cold liquid dropping down onto my lips. I instinctually licked them. The cold liquid had a strange, acerbic taste, kind of what I though battery acid might taste like.

“John?” said someone from the doorway, who a moment later I realized was Mom.

“Shhhhh,” the Thing whispered again, turning its head towards her.

“Ok,” she said sleepily, and started walking down the hall again.

The Thing turned its attention back to me, its sickly green eyes regarding me. For a long moment, nothing happened. In the brief time that the Thing’s attention hadn’t been on me, my mind had started working again and I’d realized exactly what was happening.

“ADAM! ADAM?!” Kate yelled as she ran back into my bedroom, and the Thing turned to regard her. Upon seeing the thing’s face, she screamed.

A moment later, Kate was lifted up to the ceiling, her scream cut off and a bloody cut appearing in her midriff. Then the Thing disappeared.

“KATE! KATE?!” yelled John as he burst into the room. Looking around, he saw me frozen on my bed, a horrified expression on my face, my eyes fixated on Kate on the ceiling. He turned to look at what I was looking at, and saw Kate.

Collapsing on the floor, he moaned: “No... No!”

Then Kate burst into flames.


	2. Voodoo Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Voodoo business down in Baton Rouge. 
> 
> It's 2005, Adam is 16, Dean is 26.

**Adam**

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I groaned and turned over, picking up the buzzing cell phone and turning off the alarm clock. It was five in the morning in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and I was getting to enjoy the rare comfort of having my own bed for once. Usually I had to share with Dean, but this time, Dad had sprung for a three bedroom suite.

With a silent yawn, I got up and went to the bathroom. I liked to wake up early, mainly because Dean and Dad would hog the bathroom if they woke up before me. After taking a piss and a short shower, I got dressed for the day, and went to check the salt lines.

Unlike Dad and Dean, I was a bit more meticulous when it came to the salt line; they preferred to just dump it right out of the bag into a line, wasting it, whilst I would sprinkle it, making a thinner salt line that didn’t waste salt.

After making sure that the salt line was intact, I walked out to Dad’s truck to get my electric coffee pot, and half an hour later, the motel suite was filled with the smell of coffee. After preparing my own cup of coffee, I sat down to look for a case.

“No special breakfast this morning?” asked Dad an hour later after he had gotten up and taken a shower himself. “Usually you’ve have a plate full of eggs and bacon ready for me by now.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” I mumbled, still staring at my laptop. “I’ll make you something later.”

“Mmm. Found anything?” he asked, sitting down on my bed and looking at my laptop.

“I think so,” I replied, thoughtfully. “Look at this.”

I oriented my laptop towards him. “Down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, a 22 year old guy who regularly runs triatlons died of a heart attack in his sleep, at home.”

“That’s not _too_ unusual,” Dad commented.

“Normally, yeah,” I replied. “but he’s not the only one. During the past ten years, around 14 healthy young men have died unexpectedly of heart attacks, the youngest being 19, the oldest 43. Only one of them was a smoker, but he was young, and they were all healthy, no obesity.”

Dad continued to read the news article, rubbing his chin. “Might be worth checking out. Good work, Adam.”

“Thank you dad,” I smiled at him, a smile he didn’t return, instead getting up and walking out.

“I’ve got some calls to make,” he said, turning around. “How about you get started on that breakfast.”

It was phrased as a question, but I knew it was really an order.

“Dean up yet?” I asked in turn, closing my laptop.

“He’s in the shower,” Dad called back.

OO

“Mmm, bacon,” Dean moaned as he bit into a slice of bacon.

“Come on, dude,” I huffed. “You say that every morning!”

“I’ll stop when you stop making such good bacon,” Dean replied, stuffing another slice of bacon into his mouth.

I sighed, picking up my news paper and giving it a once over, before glancing over a the plate I had set aside for Dad, who had yet to return from making his calls. Dean and I were sitting down for breakfast, which I usually made with my mother’s old cast iron skillet.

“Say, Adam, how do you make bacon taste this good, anyway?” asked Dean, munching yet another slice of bacon.

“Four generations of flavor on my cast iron skillet,” I replied idly.

“You’ve said that before, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean said blithely. “I don’t know why you won’t let me wash that thing, it’s kind of dirty.”

“I wash it every morning,” I protested.

“With soap?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“If I washed it with soap, my bacon would stop tasting so good,” I snarked, before turning serious. “And if I ever catch you trying to wash it with soap again, I’ll brain you with it, and that’s a promise. That skillet is the last thing I have to remember mom by.”

“Fine, fine, don’t get your panties in a twist, barbie,” he snarked back.

“Jerk.”

“Dick.”

That moment, Dad opened the door and walked back in. I noticed that he seemed really irritated about something. He was holding a file under his arm.

“Adam, Dean,” he said, sitting down to eat, and plopping the file on the table.

“Sir,” we replied dutifully.

For a few minutes, we were silent, Dad and Dean eating breakfast, while I read my newspaper.

“So Adam’s found a case down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana,” Dad said without preamble. “And I’ve got a call about another case over in Jericho, California. Dean, I want you to take Adam and do the Baton Rouge case, I’ll do the Jericho case.”

“Don’t _you_ usually take Adam?” Dean asked curiously.

“Normally, yes,” Dad replied, focused on Dean. “However, this Jericho case, I can’t afford to be distracted while I’m working it.”

“Why? What’s the case?” I asked curiously.

Dad looked at me, before opening the file, and passing one of the papers inside. It appeared to be a printout of a webpage, of a news website that was called _The Jericho Herald_. Upon seeing the webpage, I got a strong feeling of Deja vu. I felt that I had seen this webpage somewhere, before.

“There’s this two-lane blacktop, just out of Jericho, where a man disappeared a day ago,” Dad spoke, handing another page to Dean. “They found his car, but no trace of him.”

“He could have been kidnapped.” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, but he’s not the only one,” Dad replied. “Ten others have disappeared on that same stretch of road, all over the past ten years.”

“You thinking ghost?” asked Dean curiously.

“Maybe, but whatever it is, it’s targeting men,” said Dad seriously. “It could target Adam, and I don’t want to have to worry about him while I’m on the case.”

“But Dad-” Dean protested.

“You’re taking him, that’s an order,” Dad said harshly.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied stiffly.

Dad looked at me. “And Adam, you behave yourself for Dean, That’s an order too.”

“Yes, sir,” I said minutely.

**Dean**

“From what I can tell, the first nine victims were either wealthy business men, or sons of wealthy business men,” said Adam as he shifted through the notes he had compiled earlier that day. “the next five victims were not, instead they were pro-athletes, or in one case, a very active janitor who had a gardening job on the side.”

“So you’re thinking witch?” asked Dean, glancing at Adam for a moment, before returning his attention to the road. They were in the Impala, on the way to Baton Rouge.

“Or a hoodoo priest gone bad,” Adam commented idly. “It’s happened before.”

“Yeah, remember when Dad found that pair of Hoodoo priests that were switching bodies with people?” Dean chuckled.

Adam furrowed his brow. “Uh, no?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that long ago,” Dean looked at Adam uncertainly. “Was it?”

“I don’t think I was here for that,” said Adam dryly. “That’s the fifth time this year you’ve gotten me mixed up with Sam, which I really don’t understand. He and I are nothing alike.”

“Goddamn it,” said Dean with a huff.

It had been four years since Sam had left for collage. More and more, Adam was replacing Sam in his memories. It was understandable in Dean’s mind: Adam was another little brother that he had to protect, ever since that night when Adam’s Mom had died.

**7 years ago**

It had been the sound of Dad yelling that woke him up. Grabbing the gun from under his pillow, he had raced up the stairs to see what was going on, only to find Dad coming out of Adam’s bedroom, holding Adam himself bridal style, the flickering light of flames coming from Adam’s room.

“Boys, take Adam and get out as fast as you can!” Dad had shouted, passing what seemed like a comatose Adam to Dean, and Dean turned to see that Sam was right behind him. “Don’t look back, Go, go!”

Dean had made haste to follow Dad’s orders, jumping down the stairs after Sam, and running out the door. He hadn’t paused to look at the house, instead running down the street some distance, then stopping.

“Sam, call 911,” Dean had barked at him, before turning his attention to Adam’s face to see what was wrong.

Adam was stiff as a board, and cold to the touch, a horrified look frozen on his face, his eyes seeing nothing.

“Hey, Adam, Adam,” Dean said softly, giving Adam a light smack on the face. “Adam, wake up.”

With a start, Adam came back to himself, his stiff body loosening up, his eyes focused on Dean. “She’s dead, isn’t she.”

His voice was flat, but his blue lips trembled. Dean paused.

“We don’t know for sure-”

“She’s dead,” Adam’s tone brooked no argument, and a moment later his face broke, tears gushing out and he broke out in sobs. It was like Mom’s death all over again. Not knowing what else to do, Dean had gently rocked Adam as he cried for his lost mom, and a few minutes later he had fallen asleep.

Later that night, when they had gotten to a hotel to sleep the rest of the night off, Dean had vowed in his heart that he would protect and care for this new younger brother of his, just like he had done for Sam.

**Present day**

Of course Adam wasn’t like Sam. Whereas Sam had been a little bitch, always wining and complaining about their life, Adam was more dickish, unwilling to deal with anyone’s shit, and gave as good as he got. Sam had once tried to play a prank on Adam, and got a punch to the arm for his efforts, with Dean having to break up the subsequent fight.

But then Sam had left for college, and it was just Dean, Adam, and Dad left, much like it had been before Adam had come into the picture. Adam was Dean’s little brother that he had promised to protect, and Dean was Adam’s big brother that trained him and hunted with him. It was almost exactly like it had been with Dean and Sam when Dad would go on a hunt and it was just them.

“So, did you notice something off with Dad this morning?” Adam asked suddenly.

“No more than usual,” Dean replied, taking a turn.

“He doesn’t usually say ‘that’s an order’ unless he’s upset about something,” Adam commented, still flipping through his notes. “You think something’s going on with him?”

“Maybe he’s found a lead,” said Dean thoughtfully. “God knows we’ve been looking for that thing for the past two decades. You know how Dad gets.”

“Yeah, except Dad doesn’t usually send us away,” Adam rubbed his chin. “Maybe he found out what the thing is, and thinks it’s too dangerous for us to be involved?”

“Dad knows what he’s doing,” Dean replied. “If he thinks it’s too dangerous for us, then it’s too dangerous for us.”

He looked over at Adam and grinned. “Though he probably thinks it’s too dangerous for you and wants me to babysit you.”

Adam glared at him. “Or maybe he thinks you’re too immature and wants _me_ to babysit _you_.”

“Yeah right,” Dean scoffed. “If anyone’s the baby of the family, it’s you.”

Adam scoffed in turn. “If I’m the baby of the family, then you’re the embarrassing manchild that sits on the couch all day, eating ho-hos and watching porn on the family television. At Thanksgiving.”

Dean snorted, before looking back at Adam. “Come on…. Name one Thanksgiving where I actually did that.”

“Uh, the first Thanksgiving after Mom died?” Adam retorted. “Dad even made a real turkey and you couldn’t eat a bite cause you’d been eating ho-hos all day.”

“Oh, right,” Dean shook his head. “Damn, Dad was pissed.”

“If I recall correctly, he told you to eat your entire turkey breast, and you threw up afterwards,” Adam commented. “I don’t know who was more pissed after that, Dad or Sam.”

“Probably Sam,” Dean replied distantly, his mind on something else. “He always wanted a real Thanksgiving with his family.”

“I miss him too,” Adam said quietly.

“Yeah…” Dean trailed off.

OO

It was early morning when Dean pulled up in front of the rather old looking white house where the victim’s parents lived. After giving the house a rather long look, Dean glanced down at the note that Adam had scribbled for him:

_Victim: William Parker  
lived alone in an apartment in the city, did regular triathlons.   
Had a gym membership, Address:_

_10410 Florida blvd._

_Two parents:_

_Andrew Mckinney Parker  
Sarah Parker nee Smith_

_Address:_

_305 Banyan ave._

With a sigh, Dean reached over to the glove compartment, and pulled out his ID box. Opening the Box, he pulled out his federal marshal ID, before closing the ID box and putting it away. Getting out of the impala, Dean walked around the car and up the gravel path to the front door of the old white house, the gravel crunching under his feet. It took a few minutes after he knocked on the door for anyone to answer, and the person opening the door turned out to be a lady in her late fifties.

“Can I help you?” she asked, standing in the doorway. Dean noticed that there were bags under her eyes, and she looked rather pale, as if she hadn’t gone outside in a while. Dean gave her his grade A winning smile.

“Hi, I’m a federal marshal, are you Sarah Parker?” Dean said, flashing his badge.

“Uh, yes. I’ve already spoken to the police,” the woman said stiffly.

“Just here to follow up on a few things,” Dean replied, flashing her another smile. “Just want to ask you some questions about your son, that all.”

“Alright,” Sarah said, backing away and opening the door wider. She then turned walked further into the house, and Dean followed her, into a well furnished living room.

Sitting down on the couch, Dean gave solemn look. “First off, when was the last time you had contact with your son before his death?”

“That night, actually,” Sarah replied thoughtfully. “He called to tell me he was scared for his life. I… I didn’t really understand what he meant, but I told him to come home right away, and called the police. The next morning, the police came to his house, and found him dead, died of a heart attack.”

“Did the cops say that he had any unusual scars or marks?” Dean asked.

“No,” Sarah replied shortly, wiping her suddenly wet eyes. “The police found him in his bed, and the coroner said he had died of a heart attack.”

Dean nodded. “Alright, one last thing, has he behaved strangely in the past month before he died?”

“No, not really,” said Sarah thoughtfully. “Well, maybe on thing.”

“What?”

“Four months ago he started dating someone,” Sarah said, thinking. “a girl called Katie Dupont. I’ve never met her, but Bill said she was the love of his life.”

“You’ve never met her?” Dean asked curiously.

“Bill wouldn’t let us meet her,” Sarah explained. “when ever we asked to see her, he made excuses not to, saying she was out of town or too busy to meet.”

Dean frowned. “Did he describe what she looked like, or give you a picture?”

Sarah stared into space for a moment. “Now that I think about it, no! That’s strange, he talked about her enough. He wouldn’t shut up honestly.”

“Did he say how he met her?” Dean asked.

“At some dive in the sketcher part of town, he didn’t tell me which,” Sarah replied.

Dean flashed her his signature smile again. “Alright, well. Thank you ma’am, I think that will be all.”

OO

By the time Dean got done with the friends and close relations of the last few victims, it was evening, and he returned to the motel that Adam and he were staying at.

“Found anything?” asked Adam when Dean walked back into the motel room. He was sitting at a table, his laptop open in front of him.

“Uh yeah, jack with a side of squat,” Dean replied gruffly. “There’s some girl involved, but nobody knows what she looks like, and she’s using an alias, never using the same name twice. Apparently, the vic met her at some dive bar in the sketcher part of town, wherever that is...”

“Well that doubles down on our theory that it’s a witch or a hoodoo priest, er, priestess,” Adam corrected.

“Well, hoodoo priestess or not, it’s not a lot to go on,” Dean replied, grabbing a bear sitting down at the table.

Adam sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Well you’re the expert. What’s our next move?”

“The vic’s body is still at the morgue,” Dean replied. “I say I’ll go check it out, and you can look for dive bars in the in the sketcher part of town. Odds are, she’ll still visit them.”

“Mmm,” Adam agreed, before giving Dean a long look. “I’m glad you trust me to take care of myself. Dad usually doesn’t involve me in his hunts.”

“No kidding?” asked Dean, quirking an eyebrow. “I wonder what all that training was for then.”

“Well I mean he doesn’t totally shut me out, I still do research,” Adam explained. “But yeah, usually I stay in the hotel.”

“Huh, I never noticed,” Dean replied thoughtfully. “Speaking of Dad, I’m gonna go give him a call.”

“Alright, I’ll go check out some dive bars,” Adam said, standing up.

“Keep a gun on you, just in case,” Dean replied as he walked out the door.

“I’m not an idiot, Dean,” Adam called back, and Dean smirked as he closed the door.

**Adam**

It was the following day. I had looked up dive bars online, and had spent most of the day visiting each one I’d found, asking bartenders if they recognized the victim, whom I had a picture of. Unfortunately, all of them so far were a bust, and I only had three more to check.

I was driving around in an old busted pickup I had stolen, one that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, and was using it to get around, as Dean was using the impala to visit the morgue today, and the bus system was too slow.

The dive bar I was on my way to now was in one of the shadier parts of town, a place that looked like it had been hit hard by Hurricane Katrina, as it was 2005 and Hurricane Katrina had happened last year. The town had largely been flooded, and it looked like most of the buildings that were still standing had suffered water damage.

The area had a trashy look to it, and I wondered why William Parker, the victim we were investigating, would come to a place like this. While his parents couldn’t be described as rich, they weren’t too bad off.

Eventually I pulled up to a place called O'Connor’s Saloon. It definitely wasn’t upscale, and I wondered if I should just skip it and go to the next two items on the list, before deciding that it would be better to thorough, just in case. With resignation, I pulled into a park and got out.

Stepping through the door, I noticed the place looked like a typical southern bar, with wood panel walls and flooring, and the wall were covered in things like pictures, flags, mounted deer heads, and stamps. There were a few pool tables, a dart board, and tucked away in the corner, an old pinball game.

I walked in and sat at the bar. The bartender, who was an older woman with red hair, gave me an appraising look as I sat down. “Aren't you a little young to drink alcohol?”

“I’m not here to drink,” I replied, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a picture. “I just want to ask you a few questions if that’s ok.”

“Uh, sure,” the bartender replied. “I’m not too busy right now.”

“Have you seen this man in here before?” I asked, showing her the picture.

“Uh yeah, actually,” the bartender replied, taking the picture and looking at it. “He used to come in here all the time with his friends, but I haven't seen him much lately. Friend of yours?”

“Old friend, I’ve been out of town for a while,” I replied, taking the picture back. “Did he happen to meet someone last time he was here? Say, a girl?”

“You mean Bennett over there?” replied the bartender, turning around and indicating a girl on the other side of the bar. The girl in question was chatting up someone, and didn’t seem to notice us. “She a regular, been coming here since before I was hired. She’s always chatting up some guy or other.”

“Oh, thanks,” I replied, surprised. I hadn’t expected to come across the suspect so soon.

I turned my attention back to the bartender. “Maybe I’ll have a drink after all. A coke, mind.”

“Sure thing, hun,” the bartender said with a smile, before turning to get my order. With the bartender gone, I refocused my attention on the suspect.

‘Bennett’, if that indeed was her real name, was blonde with long, curly hair, and a slim figure. I wouldn’t have expected a witch or hoodoo priestess to be so pretty, but then again, Rowena was pretty, so I guess not all witches were ugly. She was chatting up a guy that looked young and healthy, with no fat to be seen. There were 13 other people in the bar.

After my coke arrived, I pulled out my phone and texted Dean:

Adam: _found suspect, 253 5_ _th_ _ave, Bar called_ _O'Connor’s Saloon._ _Suspect is chatting up a guy that’s healthy and looks to be in his 20s. Suspect is blonde with curly hair and a slim figure, do not call, in hearing range. I’m keeping eyes on the suspect._

I snapped a quick picture of the suspect(flash being off), hit send, then folded up my cell phone, then checked my gun discreetly to make sure it wasn’t loose, as it was in the back of my pants.

When my phone buzzed, I picked it up to find a message from Dean:

Dean: _OMW, DDATIGT._

I frowned. DDATIGT meant Don’t Do Anything Till I Get There, which meant Dean wanted me to sit on my ass, even if she left the bar with a possible new victim in tow. Damn it, was I part of the Winchester family or not?

Adam: _Possible new vic. Family business or not?_

I hit send, before turning my phone off. Dean would just make it buzz over and over again, and I didn’t need the distraction. Which was a good thing then, for as soon as I turned my phone off, Bennett got up, got her drinks payed for by the guy she was with, then left with him in tow.

I waited for a few moments after they left, popped a five on the bar, got up, and walked out the door. Looking around, I noticed Bennett getting into a truck with the guy. I walked over to my truck and got in, intending to follow.

I waited half a minute after they pulled out to follow them, wanting to keep some distance between us so they wouldn’t realize they were being followed. It seemed to work, and I followed them as they drove clear across town on the interstate, until they pulled off into what looked like quiet, upscale neighborhood, the kind that had one street for the front door and one street for the back door.

I observed where the truck was parked, before pulling ahead and parking my truck a few blocks over. It being an upscale neighborhood, I pulled a silencer out of the glove box(where I had put it earlier, just in case), along with a few other things, and hooked up the silencer to my gun, as guns were noisy and I didn’t want to clue in anyone in the neighborhood that there was a shootout going on nearby.

I pulled out my phone and turned it on, and it turned out that Dean had tried to call me a bunch of times.

I called Dean’s number:

“Adam, where are you?! I told you to stay put!” Dean’s voice yelled out of the phone.

I heaved a deep sigh. “She was seducing another victim, Dean. I couldn’t just stand buy and do nothing. I got her address, It’s 227 Hargrove Blvd-.”

“Adam, I’m telling you, don’t do anything until I get there-”

But I’d already hung up, instead texting him the address since it was obvious he hadn’t written it down, then turning it off again, leaving it in the truck. Tucking my gun in the back of my pants, I walked up the back street at a brisk pace, and when I got near to the suspects house, I paused and ducked behind a few trash cans, looking at the house in question and waiting for the lights to go out. Hopefully Dean would arrive soon, and-

There was no warning, one moment I was crouching behind a few trash cans, the next moment something hard impacted the back of my head and all there was was blackness.

OO

I didn’t know why, but I was walking along a creek trail, deep in what looked like a dried out canyon. For some reason, the creek seemed very familiar, like I had been here before, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember where exactly this creek was.

Eventually, the creek trail itself veered off the creek itself, turning onto a mountain pass. Instead of continuing to follow the trail, I continued down the creek itself, until eventually I came across a massive grotto, a grotto that the water of the creek fell down into. Peering over the edge of the grotto, I noticed that there seemed to be an entrance below that the water flowed out of, but otherwise the rest of the grotto was covered in darkness.

I had seen this grotto somewhere before, but where? Shrugging, I turned back, and when I got to the trail again, I walked along the mountain pass, following it as it trailed over the side of the mountain, before following it down to where it seemed like two canyons met to form one, the water of two creeks forming into a river.

Shrugging, I turned to follow the right-most creek back to the grotto, intending to check it out. By the time I had got there, the sun had set, and every thing was wreathed in moonlight. Looking through the bottom entrance to the grotto, I got the feeling that there was something very important here, something that I could use.

However, before I could set one more foot inside the grotto, what looked like three pairs of glowing red eyes opened, blinking in the moonlight, and a moment later, I heard a terrible growling sound.

There emerged a terribly massive three-headed dog, black as night, wreathed in shadow. It was so large it towered over me, and I was frozen on the spot in fear. However, before either of us could make a move, ice cold water splashed over me, and I awoke with a start.

After spluttering for a few moments, and blinking the water out of my eyes, I came to in what seemed to be an attic. I was tied tight to a plush chair with cord rope, my hands tied behind me. The attic had all the usual stuff in it, old furniture, suitcases, dust everywhere, and a massive white vanity with a huge fucking mirror on it. It had a few candles, what looked like 5 remarkably lifelike wax dolls, and various fabrics and pin cushions, and my gun on it. The mirror seemed to have a few veve carved into it, but I didn’t recognize them.

Standing in front of the vanity was Bennett, who seemed to be working on another wax doll, only this one was a lot cruder. In the mirror, I saw a huge dark-skinned man standing behind me, a blank expression on his face. He was holding the bucket that apparently had been holding the water that was used to wake me up.

“That’d be all, Carl,” Bennett said eventually, looking up from her work to stare at me in the mirror.

The dark skinned man, whom I assumed to be Carl, turned and left, closing the door behind him.

“So...” Bennett turned around to look at me, picking up my gun. She had a wary expression on her face. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing running around with a pretty gun like this in your pocket?”

She indicated the gun in question.

I gave my best impression of a Dean-smirk. “What’s a pretty witch like you doing running around seducing pretty men like that and enslaving them?”

I glanced at the door that Carl had just left out of, before giving her a once over with my eyes, and then did a sharp whistle. “I mean, I’ve met quite a few witches in my day, and none of them were near as pretty as you.”

Actually I didn’t really find her to be pretty at all, she wore a lot of jewelry(which I found gaudy), had clearly had a face-lift at some point, and now seeing her up close and personal, I realized that her hair was an ugly bleached color, instead of natural blonde. Also, I wasn’t attracted to women, men were more my speed.

Still, I had told her that to A, put her off guard and B, give her the impression that I was just like any other guy, so she would underestimate me.

“Ugh, men,” she scoffed, mostly to herself. “Ok, A, ew, and B, I’m pagan, not a witch.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured after seeing the veve on your mirror,” I replied. “Still, enslaving people against their will would class you as a witch in most hunter’s books.”

“I didn’t know they started training hunters so young,” She said while walking up to me. “So whats your name, hunter?”

“Ben Tyson,” I replied with a straight face. “What’s yours?”

“Hmm, try again,” She said, walking around me. I stopped moving my arms, as I had slowly been loosening the ropes.

“What do you mean? My name really is Ben Tyson,” I replied in a faux-confused voice.

She slapped me across the face. “Don’t lie to me, little boy.”

Holding up the doll she had been working on earlier, she pressed her thumb to the doll’s chest, and I felt pressure on mine.

It was a Voodoo doll, I realized. “I’m not lying.”

She pressed harder, and it soon became hard for me to draw in a breath, my ribs feeling like they could buckle under the strain.

“Tell me your name,” The witch hissed.

While it didn’t come up often in the TV show, in the supernatural universe, names had power. After all, you needed a being’s name if you were going to summon them, and it was easier for witches to cast a spell on someone if they had their name. I assumed she wanted my name to make it easier to enslave me.

“Kind of… hard to.. say anything… if I… can’t breathe,” I gasped out.

She removed her thumb from the doll’s chest, and I choked in a breath.

“Tell me your name, or I’ll start breaking arms,” the witch replied, holding up one of the arms of the doll.

“Go ahead,” I growled out. I think one of my ribs had actually cracked. “It’s not like I haven’t had a broken arm before. I’d rather be dead than enslaved.”

The witch regarded me for a moment. “Is that so?”

I glared up at her defiantly.

“Hmm, well that’s too bad,” the witch said a few moments later. “It would have been nice to have a younger companion for once. I guess I’ll just have to wait for your brother to arrive.”

I looked up at her in surprise. How did she know about Dean? I was about to ask, but she already had the head of the doll in her grip, and I felt the pressure on my head.

She really was going to kill me, I realized. And Dean… Dean was walking into a trap.

I closed my eyes, flipped a switch, then opened them again.

The witch had been slowly twisting the head of the doll around, probably intending to twist my head off with it. But when I opened my eyes, something in them caused her to flinch violently, and doll dropped from her boneless fingers. I caught it easily with my power, and now that she didn’t have any control over it, I melted it so she couldn’t use it again.

The next instant, I used my power to undo the ropes binding me to the chair. The instant after that, I stood up, grabbing the witch in a choke-hold, lifting her up a foot in the air. She gasped for air, and I could feel the demonic blood pumping in my ears.

“That’s right,” I said softly in a demonic growl. “Die.”

The witch, for her part, had the presence of mind to kick me in the groin, and the pain of my squished doo-daads loosened my grip enough for her to escape, and she ran to the door. Dispite the soul agonizing pain of my nether regions, I had the presence of mind flex my power with one hand, moving several bits of furniture in her way, so she couldn’t escape, using my other hand to cradle my squished bits..

“What the fuck are you?” she screamed at me after she made a futile attempt to move the furniture out of the way.

The question gave me pause, and I turned to regard the mirror, my hand still clutching my nether bits, and I realized that my eyes were as black as night.

The sight of my own eyes black as the blackest night, was enough to shake me out of the demonic haze, and I regained partial control over myself. Then the witch threw a lamp at me, and I caught it instinctively with my power.

“Don’t,” I warned, turning towards her.

She either didn’t hear me, or chose to disregard my warming, as she threw a broken table leg at me next, which I redirected away from me. With a sigh, I picked her up with my power, pushed her into the chair I had been sitting in just a minute ago, and bound her with rope she had tied me up with, the cord slithering over her arms and legs to affix themselves quite securely. Then I gagged her using a nearby cleaning cloth.

With that out of the way, I made sure to secure the door more firmly, so none of her slaves be able to interrupt us. Then I turned to regard myself in the mirror again, leaning on the vanity.

Having regained _some_ control over myself, my eyes were now their usual sky-blue, but I knew I was close to the edge of snapping again. With a sigh, I pulled my flask from my pocket, and took a swig of Holy Water. It stung on it way down, and a moment later, the demonic blood stopped pumping in my ears.

After the demon had fed me demon blood all those years ago, I had been sick for almost three months, and according to the doctors, I had almost died. I guess there was a difference between drinking demon blood as an infant, and drinking it as a young child.

I did survive, however, and after that long sick period, I started experimenting. Only when I was alone of course, when I could get away from Sam and Dean while John was gone on hunts. I was careful, always making sure I wasn’t being watched, and never going too far with my experiments. I was never one to waste potential power.

It turned out that accessing my demonic powers was easy, all I had to do was open myself up to them. I started by lifting rocks. By the time I was ten, I could lift cinder blocks, by the time I was twelve, I could lift cars. After that, I focused on fine tuning my control, which was where I was today. I barely had to focus to use my powers, which was a far cry from when it had taken my full concentration to lift measly rocks.

However, experimenting and refining these powers came at a cost that didn’t become apparent until much later: the more I used my powers, the more demonic I became. One time, I turned my powers on to try an experiment, only for a demonic haze to come over me. When I finally regained control over myself, it was several hours later, and I had killed a dog and two cats, and had nearly came close to killing a person.

Since then, I hadn’t touched my powers with a ten foot pole. Until today.

“Christo,” I muttered under my breath. “Christo, christo, christo.”

Each time I said it, the black eyes failed to appear. I took another swig of Holy Water. It tasted like normal water now. Good, I was back to normal. With a sigh of relief, I turned around and regarded the bound and gagged witch.

“You know, you’re very lucky,” I said causally, leaning back on the vanity. “If I hadn’t regained control of myself, you’d probably be dead right now.”

The witch glared at me.

“Shucks, you’re dead anyway right?” I said awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. “Well, maybe. I _could_ be persuaded to let you go, if you answer a few questions.”

The witch still glared at me.

“Alright, I’m gonna pull the gag out now,” I replied. “just don’t scream when I do, ok? Can’t have the neighbors waking up and calling the po-po now, can we?”

I removed the gag and she thankfully remained silent.

“Alright, first question,” I said, wiping the sweat off my brow. “How long was I knocked out?”

She remained silent, and after I waited for her to speak for half a minute, I kicked myself mentally when I realized I was wasting time trying to question her. Dean would arrive at any minute, and I had to clean this place up before he got here.

“Not feeling cooperative, huh?” I said a moment later. “That’s a pity.”

Then I picked up my gun and shot her clean through the head at point blank range. A moment later, I heard several thumps, as bodies hit the ground. Her slaves, I realized. She must have connected their life force to her own.

I sighed again. It was just one fuck up after another today.

OO

It was well into nighttime by the time Dean arrived, an hour later. By then I had managed to locate the victim (who seemed to be in some kind of enchanted sleep in another room), and had cleaned up any evidence of my presence in the house. The bullet I had shot the witch with was safely in my pocket, so the po-po, the police, wouldn’t be able to identify my gun with it.

I had moved all the bodies to the attic (so it would be a while before anyone found them), and had placed the victim on the couch next to the door so we could leave as soon as Dean got here. Moving all those bodies around was tiring work, so I had sat down to wait on a rocking chair on the porch.

Dean, to his credit, did not park right in front of the house, but instead walked up, probably intending to sneak in the front door.

“God damn it, Adam,” Dean said when he saw me on the porch, and pointed at me with an angry face. “I gave you one job! _One,_ _job_!”

“I’d like to think I performed that job reasonably well,” I replied mildly.

“You were supposed to just investigate the dive bars!” Dean nearly shouted with a huff. “not go tearing across town, chasing after a witch! What if something had happened to you?”

“In case you haven't noticed,” I said in a sing song voice. “ _Ding-dong, the witch is dead_! I can take care of myself.”

“Adam...” Dean replied with a frustrated noise, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I smiled inwardly. Dean really did care.


	3. Castiel 1

Most of the Host of Heaven had duties to attend to, but Castiel’s only duty was to wait for the war that was coming, the war that was on every angels lips.

The Apocalypse.

His garrison had already trained extensively for the coming war, over the past millennia that the angels had been forbidden from leaving Heaven by Michael. Oh sure, the garrison had been allowed to leave on various missions for God in the interim, but for the most part, the Pearly Gates remained close.

So, with no duties to attend to, and no training to do, Castiel spent most of his time wandering the Halls of Heaven, observing the many paradises created by each human soul. It was an interesting past time, as no two paradises were exactly alike. Sometime, he might observe a paradise for a few minutes, other times he stayed for a whole day or two, but no longer.

But when he grew weary of wandering, he would often return to his favored Paradise, which right now was the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub in 1953, a Paradise he had found only a few decades previously.

There he would stand, in quiet contemplation of his father’s creation, usually alone. Sometime other angels would visit him, but it was very rare.

It was during one of these periods of quiet contemplation that a human started praying to him.

At first, he hadn’t realized what was happening, for no human had prayed to him for millennia. But yes, he realized, a human was praying to him, a human by the name of Adam Milligan.

_Hello Castiel. Uh, you’re probably wondering why a human is praying to you. Well… my name is Adam Milligan, and the reason why is pretty simple. Right now I’m about 7 years old, but… I remember living a previous life, a life before this one. Now hold on, Castiel, you’re probably thinking, ‘that’s not possible, I’ve never heard of such a thing before’. Or may you have, I don’t know. Anyway, the point is, if such a thing is not possible, then how do I know your name? Well, I could have read it in a book, but still, I’m seven years old, it’s not exactly normal for a seven year old human to be all up on the angel lore, and besides, I doubt most humans pray to angels instead of directly to God, ya know._

Castiel wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. A human was praying to him, a human who claimed to remember living a life before his current one. Castiel understood the concept of reincarnation, but it wasn’t exactly something that actually happened. When a human dies, either their soul goes to Heaven and spends the rest of eternity there, or it goes to hell and becomes a demon. Or it became a ghost, if it didn’t pass over. At least, as far as Castiel understood.

_Well, maybe you believe me, maybe you don’t. It guess it doesn’t really matter. I just… it’d be nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff, even if you don’t reply. I just have one request, please don’t report this to your superiors, or to your brothers. I mean, if they ask you about it, sure. I don’t want you to get hurt, but you don’t have to tell them in the first place. It’ll be our little secret. I’ll assume that if nothing happens to me or my mom in the next few days that you honored my request. I’ll…_ pray… _to you again soon._

Castiel was unsure of what to do. On the one hand, a human had asked him to lie to his brothers, well, lie by omission, simply because he had confessed to being unnatural.

But on the other hand, God knew everything, so surely He knew about the unnatural child. If God did not wish for the unnatural child to exist, then He would have already ordered Castiel and his brothers to hunt the unnatural child down and smite him. That God had not given such an order yet meant that He knew and approved of the situation.

Feeling conflicted, Castiel decided he would take a wait and see approach, for he could always report the situation later.

A few days later, the human prayed to him again.

_So, it’s been a few days, I’m still alive, and my memories appear to be intact. Well, thank you, I guess, Castiel. So, you’re probably wondering how I know your name. Well, I didn’t read it in some book, as you’re probably guessing. No, the thing is, I witnessed you as a character on a tv show, in my past life. You see, my past didn’t happen before my current life did, they ran in parallel timelines. In my first life, I was born in 1988. in my current life, I was born in 1990._

_Thing is, in my past life, I never heard of the supernatural world. I was one of the mundane people who lived an ordinary life. I’d thought things like ghosts, monsters, demons… angels, those things… didn’t exist. Instead, I watched them on tv, and thought them fictional. Wait, you probably don’t know what TV is at this point, do you? Ok well. Here’s a quick rundown. So, unlike Angels, people, humans… we have emotions. So there are good emotions and bad emotions. Good emotions are like… love, empathy, and joy, and bad emotions are like anger, disgust, and fear._

_One of those bad emotions is boredom, and a lot of our actions are driven by the need to alleviate boredom, ‘cause too much boredom can be like some of the worst torture, for humans anyway. One of the ways we alleviate boredom is by observing other human acting as characters, in movies, tv shows, or plays. Don’t ask me why it works, it just does. Alleviating boredom is the is one of the main reason why we watch tv shows, movies, and plays, but we also do it to relax if we’ve been working for a long time, cause you don’t have to be actively engaged to enjoy a good movie or tv show._

_A human just sitting around in a couch is either asleep, or a very, very bored human._

_A TV just a box with a display that we use to watch humans act at being characters from a long distance away, and you can watch tv shows or movies on it._

_The point is, I once watched a tv show that had you as a character, as well as myself, and two others: Sam and Dean Winchester. And now I’ve found myself in that tv show, except no one’s acting. It’s real, and it has real consequences. People could die. In fact, in the tv show, I died. The person that played the character that was me, was actually a ghoul that had killed me, eaten me, and taken my form. By the time any events involving me happened in the show, I was already dead._

_I have no interest in dying, so I’ve got to save myself, and my mom somehow. I have a few ideas on how to do that, but it’s risky. That in mind, I’m gonna take a year to work on a plan, and maybe I’ll come up with something that won’t get me killed._

And so it went, for a year. Every week or so, Adam would pray to him, telling him what was going on in his life, and Castiel would listen quietly. He didn’t speak of the strange human praying to him to his brothers, in fact he rarely left his favored paradise, and as the year passed, he found himself looking forward to each time Adam prayed to him.

According to Adam, he had sighed up for martial arts training, and spent most of his time at a nearby library. When he prayed to Castiel, Adam most often spoke of what he learned at training that week, or shared particularly interesting tidbits he’d found out at the library. Adam never shared any details about the ‘tv show’ he had told Castiel of, however, and sometimes Castiel found himself wondering why. But he was certain, Adam would share what he knew in due time.

A year came and went, and eventually, Adam came up with a plan.

_Ok, so… if it was just the ghouls, I already know how to deal with them. Chop off their head and they’re dead. But it’s not just the Ghouls, from what I saw, there’s a whole world of clawed and fanged nasties out there,_ _and I don’t know how to protect myself, and my mom from all of them, so I’m going to have to get training. However, I can’t just walk up to any old hunter and say ‘train me’, cause A, most hunters have a twitchy trigger finger and would probably find me mighty strange, and B, cause they’d have a whole lot of questions that I don’t have the answer for, John Winchester, my father, included._

_So I figure, if I want John to give me any kind of training, I’d have to put him on the back foot, and at the same ease him into the conversation._ _The one rule that the Winchesters have is that they don’t tell the truth to anyone, unless they’re already caught in it. But, if I do manage to get them to confess, the next problem is getting them to train me. Mom will probably resist the idea, cause she wants me to grow up to be a doctor, and john will resist the idea cause he will want me to grow up normal._

_If I push too hard, it could blow up in my face. If I push to softly, I might not get any training at all._ _God… I wish John wasn’t so paranoid. At any rate, they’re turning up_ _in a day or so_ _, and we’ll have to see what John has to say. I hope… I hope he’s not as bad as he was in the tv show, at this point._

From what Adam had told Castiel about John, Castiel found he agreed, and when Adam cut off the connection, Castiel came back to himself with a feeling of… anticipation. He could feel that… something, was going to happen, something of importance.

Adam did not pray to him again that day, or the next day, but around midnight of the day after that, Heaven suddenly burst to life with Angel radio, with so many voices talking over each other, that Castiel had trouble discerning one voice from another.

Confused, Castiel called out on a tight-beam to one of his brothers from his garrison, Uriel. “Brother, what has happened?”

“Didn’t you hear, Castiel?” Uriel replied in surprise. “A Demon has attacked the Winchester Family.”


	4. Pilot

**Adam**

‘ _Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s going on. *Distorted speech* Be very careful, boys. We’re all in danger.’_

I listened as Dean played the voice mail on his phone. “There’s an EVP on that.”

“I noticed,” Dean replied, snapping his phone close. “I’m gonna record it, slow it down, and run it through GoldWave, see if I can refine it.”

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. It had been about three weeks since we’d managed to get any kind of contact from John, ever since we’d separated to do those different jobs, and I was beginning to realize, this is it, the start of canon.

We were still in Baton Rouge, as no new hunts had turned up yet, and we’d already payed to stay at the motel here for the month. I had cooked my usual morning meal, and we were sitting at the table, our laptops open in front of us.

“Ok” I replied, looking at Dean. “And what do we do after?”

“What do you think? We gotta go find Dad,” Dean said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Alright, so Jericho, California,” I turned to look at my laptop. “If we haul ass, we’ll be there in a day or two.”

“Yeah...” Dean leaned back in his chair, his eyes looking down and to the left like he did when he was thinking about something. “I think… Dads missing, and Sam… he’ll want to know, he’ll want to help us.”

I made a frustrated sigh. Dispite knowing it was coming, it was still frustrating. Sam had been gone for four years, and Dean still couldn’t get over it.

“What?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I just don’t think Sam is gonna be in a hurry to help Dad,” I wiped my forehead awkwardly. “It’d take a lot to drag him away from Stanford. Maybe if it was me or you, he’d come, but after that last spat he and Dad had-”

“Spat?!” Dean shook his head, and his lips twisted. “Look, Dad is missing, and Sam will want to help us look for him, I know he will, trust me!”

“Ok, ok!” I threw my hands up. “I trust you.”

“Alright, good,” Dean replied, standing up. “Lets get packed up and on the road.”

“I’m with you there,” I said, standing up as well.

It didn’t take us very long to pack up. Dean took a while to process the recording, but when he was done, it turned out the EVP was something along the lines of ‘I can never go home’, said in a female voice. Once he recorded it on a cassette tape player, we were on the road.

“I’m gonna give Sam a call, let him know we’re on the way,” I said once we were in the Impala and on the interstate.

“You have his number?!” Dean asked in surprise. “Since when?”

“Uh, since the fourth week after he left?” I replied, looking at him. “I did tell him not to cut me out of his life. He called me.”

“You mean you had his number all this time and you never told me?” Dean asked angrily. “Really?”

“Hey, you could have looked him up and called him at any time,” I replied defensively. “Don’t put this on me, you’re the one who said you wanted to give him space. And by the way, Sam called _me_ , not the other way around.”

Dean scoffed. “Ok, fine. Whatever. Give him a call and tell him we’re on our way.”

I rolled my eyes. God, Dean could get so jealous sometimes. Sure, both of them thought of me as their little brother, but still. The bond I had with each of them would never be as strong as the bond they had with each other. If Dean had to chose between me or Sam to play on his team at football, he’d always chose Sam, and Sam, would always chose Dean.

With another roll of my eyes, I opened my flip phone and dialed Sam’s number.

He answered after a few rings. “Adam?”

“Hey Sam.”

“Hey… what’s going on?”

“I’m just giving you a call to let you know that Dean and I are on our way over, there’s something going on and we gotta talk to you.”

“What? What do you mean, somethings going on? Did something happen?”

“Uh, yeah. We’ve been out of contact with Dad for a few weeks,” I replied. “He’s not picking up the phone, and he was on a hunting trip last we heard. He’s missing, Sam.”

“So? He’s always missing, and he’s always fine-”

“It’s different this time,” I replied sharply. “Look, we’ll tell you more when we get there, this is just a heads up that we’re on our way. We’ll be there in a day or two, see you then.”

With that I hung up and closed my phone. Then I noticed Dean looking at me with an expression that said ‘really?’

“What?” I asked defensively.

“You know Adam? You do that _way_ to much,” Dean replied, looking back at the road.

“Do what?” I asked incredulously.

“Hang up on people in the middle of a conversation,” Dean looked at me again. “It’s _really_ annoying.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Just drive, jerk.”

“Dick.”

**OO)SCENE-BREAK(OO**

I blinked and looked up at the sun, holding up my hand to block out the light, the dry heat causing sweat to break out on my skin. Even though I must have been walking for hours, it was still morning, and the sky was clear.

I grunted with annoyance, and starting putting one foot in front of the other, each step sending up small plumes of dust as I slowly made my way down the creek trail in the dried out canyon, the trail thankfully clear of brush that could have made the hike even more annoying.

Why was I here again? Strangely enough I couldn’t remember, and looking around I realized I was alone. Yet, despite being alone in a strange wilderness, for reasons unknown, I wasn’t afraid.

With a shrug I continued on my way, and eventually I came to a point where the creek and the trail diverged, the trail turning up around the side of a mountain, the creek continuing down the canyon.

Curious to see where the creek went, I followed it instead of the trail, which was difficult, as the brush grew thick over this part of the canyon, so I had to pick my way carefully through it as a lot of the brush had thorns.

Eventually I came to an open space that the water of the creek fell into, and, careful not to slip on the slimy moss, I gripped a nearby bush and leaned over to peek in.

The water of the creek fell into a massive grotto, the bottom of which I couldn’t see due to the darkness. Peering down there, I thought I saw something moving down there, but after watching for a full minute, nothing moved, so it must have been a trick of the light.

With a shrug I turned around back the way I came, and eventually came back to the trail. Stepping on to it, I turned and followed it as it trailed around the side of the mountain, moving down it as it passed over an old mountain slide, where part of it was made of gravel and small rocks.

Eventually I came down to the part where two canyons met to form a larger canyon, down which a small river flowed. Curious to see the grotto from the bottom, I turned and walked down the smaller canyon, and came to a part where larger rocks from the old land slide had come to a rest, having been weathered smooth by old floods, most of the smaller stones having been washed away farther down the canyon.

Strangely, one of the larger rocks struck a familiar cord with me. I had seen this rock somewhere before, but where? Well, here obviously, it’s not like the rock could have moved. In fact, this whole place seemed very familiar, like I’d been here before, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember when.

I stared at the rock for a few more minutes, before moving on to the grotto. It was midday by the time I arrived, and the grotto itself was still wreathed in darkness. Through the gloom I could make out what looked like a deep hole in the side of the grotto, which I somehow knew was an old mine-shaft, but I had no idea how I knew this.

I also somehow knew that there was something important in that old mine-shaft, but before I could consider the idea further, something stepped around a bend in the grotto, something _huge_!

It stepped farther into view in the gloom of the grotto, standing up straighter, and with three pairs of red eyes it looked at me.

And then it stepped out of the grotto into the light of the mid day sun, and I noticed that it seemed to be composed of a writhing darkness, a kind of black smoke, formed into sharply defined features. With each step it took I could make out more of it’s form, and I suddenly realized that I was looking at a _massive_ three-headed dog.

The three heads opened their mouths to snarl, and I had just enough time to make out pearly white, razor sharp teeth, before it _darted_ forward and _snapped me up_ in _its gaping maw_!

And I awoke with a gasp, and jerked forward.

“Easy, easy!” Dean said while holding me back on the seat, his other hand on the wheel. “It’s just a nightmare, you’re ok!”

Swallowing in deep breaths, I looked around the cockpit of the Impala wildly, but there was nothing to see other than Dean, who was glancing at me every now and then with a concerned look. There was no sign of a three-headed dog.

After a moment, I breathed a sigh. It was just a dream… a nightmare really, like Dean said.

“Oh...” I trailed off. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Dean grinned at me, before looking back at the road.

I looked at the road myself for a few minutes, noticing that it was night out, before turning back to him. “How far are we from Palo Alto?”

“We’re almost there,” Dean replied easily. “Should be there in a few minutes.”

I looked at him for a moment. He seemed almost.. chipper. Explained why he had just brushed off my nightmare like it was nothing, normally he would have been more concerned.

I was temped to make a dry comment about waking Sam up in the middle of the night, but as it was I was feeling a bit too tired for riparte. As it was, I settled back into the chair and turned my thoughts to the dream I had just had.

I’d been dreaming about the grotto for a while now, ever since my encounter with the voodoo witch. I didn’t have the dream every night, but it happened often enough for me to notice. Normally I didn’t pay too close attention to my dreams, as they were usually too ephemeral and vague to be worth much.

But a recurring dream, with such sharp detail such as this? I had really felt like I had been trekking though the dry wilderness for hours, had really felt the dampness of the grotto, the sliminess of the moss in the creek, the feel of thorns catching on my clothing and pricking my skin…

Had really felt the feel of the dog’s teeth closing around my neck.

And with each dream, the details got sharper, the feeling got realer, and the familiarity...

No, there was something else at work here, something I knew had to be related to the demon that had fed me blood when I was seven.

I remembered from my past life that Sam had had prophetic dreams due to his demon blood, that the dreams had been due to either other special children of Azazel acting out, or Azazel doing something himself.

And now the Demon who had fed me blood was trying to tell me something, was trying to get me to do something, and I didn’t know what.

But I knew one thing for sure: the demon that had fed me blood, had killed my mother, and had burned my house, was _not_ Azazel.

No, the demon that had fed me blood had Green eyes, while Azazel had Yellow eyes.

But what frightened me the most was that I did not know who the Green-Eyed Demon was! A Green-eyed Demon had never appeared in the main Supernatural Tv Show as far as I knew, only Demons, with White, Red, Black, or Yellow eyes.

No, the Green-Eyed demon was an unknown, a new entity, one I completely lacked knowledge of.

And strangely enough, this new entity was interested in me, for reasons I couldn’t think of or explain.

However, as far as Dean, Sam, and John were concerned, the demon that had attacked Mary, and the demon that had attacked Kate, were one and the same. I remembered, back after I had gotten over my sickness, that John had grilled me on everything I remembered witnessing that night the demon had attacked.

I had told him about the feeling of evil, about the cold, and about being pinned down on the bed, unable to move, but I neglected to mention the blood, or the glowing green eyes. Azazel had Yellow eyes, so if I told John about the Green eyes it _could_ have thrown him off Azazel’s trail, which was the last thing I needed.

I came back to reality as Dean turned the Impala off the interstate, slowing down as we came to a red light. Dispite being a city, there were no other cars around, as it was the middle of the night.

The light turned green, and Dean turned the Impala to the left, going under the interstate towards the inner city.

“Are we going to Sam’s place right now?” I asked, even though it was obvious. Dean was tapping his left foot on the floor, and had a rather excited expression on his face, though it turned sour at my question.

“You do remember that Dad is missing right?” He turned and asked me rhetorically. “There’s no time to stop for the night.”

As if that was the only reason why we were going to wake Sam up in the middle of the night. No, it was obvious, after four years of Sam’s absence from his life, Dean was terribly excited to see him again. The fact that John was missing was just an excuse.

I repressed a scoff. “I assume the plan is to sneak into his house and steal his booze, and _then_ wake him up?”

Dean looked at me with a grin. “But of course!”

I snorted.

**OO)SCENE-BREAK(OO**

I watched as Dean picked the lock of the back entrance of Sam’s apartment building, before glancing around to make sure we weren’t being watched. It was the night after Halloween, and there were still Halloween decorations all over the place. I didn’t mind Halloween that much, but Sam and Dean hated it.

Less than a minute later, the lock came undone. And the two of us quietly slinked through the door, up the stairs, and down the hallway. I kept an eye out while Dean worked on the door to Sam apartment, which was apparently easier to pick than the other door, as only a few seconds later it was open.

Unfortunately, Dean bumped into into a trash can that was just inside the door. He managed to catch it before it tipped over, but it made a slight crashing sound before he did.

“Nice,” I whispered sarcastically. “I bet the whole apartment building heard that.”

“Shut it!” Dean whispered back, before walking farther into the apartment.

Dean walked farther into the apartment, but I decided to hang back, waiting to see what would happen, keeping a few feet behind him. We walked pass the door with hanging beads, Dean obviously looking for the kitchen.

Unexpectedly, I heard the sound of hanging beads flying apart, but before I could turn around, someone got me into a headlock. Instincts kicking in, I stepped to my left, turned and grasped Sam’s left leg, as he had had a wide stance, forcing him to let go of the headlock to soften his landing with his hands, or so I thought, as he gripped my neck and brought his other leg to kick me over in an interesting acrobatic stunt, us landing with him on top of me, his knee digging into my chest.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” I heard Dean say as he pulled Sam off me. “That’s my little brother you’re beating up!”

“Wait, Dean?” Sam looked at him, before looking back at me. “ _Adam?_ ”

“Hi’ya Sam,” I said, still on the floor, rubbing my sore chest where he knee had dug in. “Help me up.”

Taking my arm, he pulled me off the floor.

“If I had known I was getting this kind of welcome-” I started, but was cut off when someone turned the lights on.

It was Jess.

“Sam?” she called out as she flipped the switch.

“Jess, hey,” Sam started, turning to look at her.

Looking back at us, he said: “Adam, Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

“Wait, your brothers, Adam and Dean?” She asked curiously.

“I love the smurfs,” Dean replied, pointing at her shirt, before walking up to her. “You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother’s league.”

Jess smiled awkwardly. “Just… let me put something on-”

“Oh no, no, no, I wouldn’t dream of it, Seriously,” Dean said with a serious expression, before walking back to us. “Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but nice meeting you.”

He said that last bit with a wink and a smile. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“I’m sorry Jess, please excuse us,” said Sam with an annoyed frown.

“Er, yeah I’ll just go back to bed,” Jess said hesitantly.

Sam nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as Jess was out of earshot, I walked up to the other side of Dean and smacked him up the backside of his head.

“Ow, what was that for?” He glared at me, rubbing the back of his head.

“You could have handled that with a lot more tact,” I replied, glaring right back. “Honestly, your daddy raised you better!”

He glared at me a moment longer, before breaking out in chuckles. Before long, we were all breaking out in bellyful laughter.

“Yeah,” Dean said a full minute later through wheezing breaths. “You’re completely right, he would have… yeah.”

And the mood turned somber, as we were reminded of the situation.

“So… Dad’s missing?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, come on, we’ve got to go,” Dean said, turning and walking out the apartment door. Sam and I looked at each other, before followed him.

“Dean, come on, you guys can’t just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you!” Sam said as we followed him down the stairs.

“Adam told you, didn’t he?” Dean called over his back. “Dad’s missing, and we need you to help us find him.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” I started. “It was your idea to get Sam, remember? I wanted to leave him alone!”

“You’re not helping, Adam!” Dean said in his Large and in Charge voice.

“Fine!” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Fine, I’m staying out of this.”

I pushed pass him and out the door, walking towards the Impala, and getting in the back. Since Sam was coming, Dean would want him in the front, so it was the back seat for me. I pushed the bags to the side, and sat in the seat behind the drivers seat, my arms folded.

I let out a long sigh. Life had been good up to this point. I had a loving family that cared about me, I was training to be a hunter, and I was living free on the road, wandering the earth, or rather, America. It had been almost idyllic. Sure, there were the monsters that had to be dealt with, and both John and Dean would sometimes come home with wounds that had to be stitched up, but for the most part, I was living the dream.

The day that Sam had left for collage had felt like a breath of fresh air. When Sam had been living with us, there had always been a tension in the air, and there was always the chance that John and Sam might get into a big row about something or other, it hardly mattered.

But when Sam left, things had settled down. Sure, both John and Dean were miserable for months afterward, but still, the tension was gone, and I didn’t feel like I had to walk on eggshells anymore. And more, my close friendship with Dean had turned into a true bond of brotherhood. Now that he wasn’t constantly acting as a mediator between John and Sam, he had more time to devote to my training, and I had learned a lot from him.

And then there was a little things, like how I could finally cook the breakfast I liked without having to worry about including greens, or being able to watch whatever I like on the television without having to fight over the remote, or being able to do research in peace without Sam being there to micro-manage everything.

Dispite remembering a life before this one, I loved Sam as a brother, but living with him was very difficult for me. Hopefully without John in the mix the overlying tension wouldn’t be there.

I started as I felt the trunk of the impala being opened. Looking at the left rear-view mirror, I saw Sam leaning over the side of the trunk. Dean must be showing him John’s research of his last hunt.

I thought of getting out, before thinking better of it. Sam was going to be convinced to come either way. I had already decided not to try and save Jess, not for selfish reasons, mind you, but because her death was inevitable. Even if I was successful in exorcising Brady, there was nothing preventing another demon from coming along and killing her. And even if we hid Jess away, there was nothing preventing the demons from targeting her family or close friends.

No, better that one person die so that others could live, and so that Sam could learn the vital lesson: Just cause you left the hunter life behind, doesn’t mean the hunter life will leave you behind.

**Sam**

It was early in the morning when they arrived at a gas station, Sam awakening at the stop of the car. He had slept the rest of the night away, given that it had been the middle of the night when Adam and Dean had arrived. He had been dreaming of fire, a strange fire that smelled of sulfur, and Jess. A rather vivid dream of Jess being pinned up on the ceiling of their apartment, her mid section ripped open, before she burst into flames.

“I’m gonna fill up the tank,” said Dean after he got out of the car, before leaning to peer in through the window. “Either of you want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” said Adam casually from behind him. Sam looked back at him to see that he was looking at something on this laptop.

“Nothing for me,” Sam shook his head, looking back at Dean.

Looking around in the Impala in the morning light, Sam noted that it hadn’t changed much since the last time he had seen it, even though it was Dean’s car now. The only thing that was different was the box full of cassette tapes, as it appeared that Dean’s collection had grown in the time Sam had been absent. After opening the Impala’s door to get some air, Sam picked up the box and looked through it, wondering what new cassettes Dean had picked up.

Sam noticed a few bands that Dean normally wouldn’t be caught dead listening too, such as Queen, the Beetles, and a few newer bands called Green Day, and Goo Goo Dolls.

“Are these yours?” Sam asked, looking back at Adam and holding up a Queen cassette.

Adam looked up from his computer. “Yeah…?”

“Does Dean actually let you _listen_ to them?” Sam put the cassette back in the box.

“Sometimes,” Adam looked back at his computer.

So not _too_ unusual then. “Hmm. What’re you reading?”

“Eh, just looking at some notes I wrote,” Adam replied casually, looking back at Sam. “personal research stuff.”

“What kind of research?” Sam asked curiously.

“It’s _personal,_ ” Adam raised his eyebrows. “I just said that.”

“Oh, right, right,” Sam turned back forward, before frowning and looking back at Adam. “Wait, shouldn’t you be doing homework? You’re still going to school, right?”

“Well technically I’m home-schooled now,” Adam replied, shrugging. “Dad figured, since we have the internet and portable computers now, he didn’t want to go through the trouble of signing me up for school every time we moved to a new area if he didn’t have to.”

“Oh,” Sam replied, nonplussed.

“I’m gonna get my GED when I turn sixteen,” Adam continued. “Then it’s smooth sailing from there.”

“You’re not gonna go to college?” Sam asked with a concerned frown.

“Nope,” Adam replied. “I already have the career I want, so there’s no point.”

“It’s not much of a career,” Sam scoffed. “And there’s more to life than hunting, Adam.”

“Hey, we’re living on the open road, in a cool car, hunting monsters and saving people,” Adam pointed out with a shrug. “What could be a better life than that?”

“I don’t know, how about having a life where you have your own house and a safe job where you don’t have live in shitty motels, eat shitty food, and risk your life every other week,” Sam replied sharply. “How about that?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I cook my own food,” Adam said with a grin. “and everyone loves it.”

“You’re missing the point, Adam,” Sam replied with a sigh. “The hunting life is dangerous, and there’s always a chance you’ll die if you keep doing it.”

“I know,” Adam said soberly. “But it’s my life, and this is the way I choose to live it.”

Sam shook his head and went back to poking through the cassette box.

A moment later, Dean came out of the store carrying food.

“Hey, either of you want breakfast?” he said from the back of the Impala, waving the food around.

“I’m good, thanks,” said Adam, not looking up from his computer.

“No thanks,” Sam replied looking back at Dean. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit-card scams?”

“Yeah, well… Hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career,” Dean replied as he put the gas nozzle back on the stall. “ ’sides, all we do is apply. It’s not our fault they send us the cards.”

“Yeah…” Sam replied sarcastically, “-and what _names_ did you write on the application this time?”

“Uh… Bert Aframian,” Dean replied as he circled the car and got in. “And his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.”

“Sounds about right,” Sam replied dryly with a chuckle, before looking down at the cassette box. “I swear, man, you’ve got to update your cassette-tape collection.”

Dean furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why?”

“Well for one – they’re cassette-tapes,” Sam replied. “And two...”

He picked a few tapes out. “Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica?”

Dean snatched a tape out of Sam’s hand as he said: “It’s the greatest hits of _Mullet_ Rock.”

Dean looked at the cassette-tape in his hand, before looking back at Sam. “House rules, Sammy: Driver picks the music...”

He finger-shot the cassette-tape back in the box. “… Shotgun shuts his pie-hole.”

He then started up the Impala, while music started playing.

Sam looked down at the box, before turned back to Dean.

“You know Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old, it’s Sam, ok?” He said with a sharp tone, but was drowned out by the music.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud,” Dean replied as he drove onto the tarmac.

Sam rolled his eyes.

**OO)SCENE-BREAK(OO**

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” said Dean as they walked along the bridge where the latest victim, Troy Squire, had been killed.

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam asked as they looked down at the river, suppressing a yawn.

It had been a long day. They’d arrived at Jericho to find that another victim had disappeared, and the police were investigating his car that had been found on a disused and dilapidated bridge. After questioning the police, they had determined that the police had no leads or useful information.

After that they’d gone to question the victims girlfriend who’d been putting up posters downtown, and from her and her friend had heard of a local legend of a girl who was murdered out on centennial many decades ago, and was still out there. Apparently she hitchhikes, and who ever picks her up, disappears forever.

After hearing the story, they had gone to the library, hoping to find information on the hitchhiking ghost, and they’d found an old newspaper article about a woman who had committed suicide on centennial bridge after her children had died.

Now they were out on the bridge itself, in the dark, hoping to find clues on Dad’s whereabouts.

“Maybe,” said Adam from Sam’s other side. “He was working this case, so if we keep following it, we should find him.”

“Ok, so what do we do next,” Sam asked.

“We keep digging ‘till we find him,” Dean replied, turning and walking down the bridge. “It might take a while.”

“Dean, I told you I’ve got to get back by –” Sam started.

“Monday.” Dean turned around. “Right, the interview.”

“Wait, what interview?” asked Adam curiously.

“Law school interview,” Sam replied, looking at Adam. “It’s my whole future on the line.”

“Yeah, I forgot,” said Dean with an irritated expression. “You’re really serious about about this, aren’t you. You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe, why not?”

“Does Jessica know the truth about you?” Dean asked interrogatively. “I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?”

“No,” Sam replied with a determined face. “-And she’s not ever going to know.”

“Well, that’s healthy,” Dean replied sarcastically. “You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you’re gonna have to face up to who really you are.”

“Who is that?”

“One of us.”

“No, I’m not like you,” Sam said with a determined face, walking around Dean to face him. “This is not going to be my life!”

“Well, you have a responsibility-” Dean replied in a harsh tone.

“To what? To Dad? And his… Crusade?” asked Sam derisively. “If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her and Kate, Mom’s gone, and she isn’t coming back.”

Suddenly, Dean grabbed him by the coat and pushed him against a bean of the bridge, glaring angrily at him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Guys,” said Adam from behind them. They turned around to see –

A woman, wearing in a white dress, standing on the fence that separated the road from the drop on the other side. The woman turned to look at them, before turning back and jumping off the bridge. At the sudden motion, the three of them ran over to the other side of the bridge and looked over.

“Where’d she go?” asked Dean, looking at the river below.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of the Impala’s engine turning on, and it’s light began to shine on the bridge.

“What the...” said Dean as he stepped back to get a better look at it.

“Who’s driving your car?” asked Sam.

Dean pulled his keys from his pocket, and they looked at it.

“It’s the ghost,” Adam exclaimed, looking back at the car.

At the sudden squeal of the tires, Adam reacted instantly, running over to the fence and climbing over it. Sam and Dean reacted a second later, turning and running as the Impala chased after them. After a few seconds of running, the car had almost caught up to them, so they had no choice but to dive over the fence.

Sam’s torso impacted a metal pole, which sent a jolt of pain through his chest and knocked the wind out of him. He grabbed a hold of the pole as he slid off, and he ended up hanging from it. After catching his breath, he tried to pull himself up, sending a fresh jolt of pain through his chest, causing him to drop a bit.

Wheezing, he fought through the pain as he tried to pull himself up again, and this time he was successful. He grabbed a hold of the railing next to the fence, and pulled himself to sitting position on it, clinging to the fence.

Looking down, he saw Dean crawling out of the river. “DEAN!”

“What?!” Dean called back up to him.

“Hey, are you alright?” Sam called back with concern.

“I’m super,” Dean made the O.K. sign. He was covered in muck.

Sam laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Sam,” said Adam from behind him. “are you ok? That looked pretty painful.”

Sam stood up on the railing. “it’s just a dull ache now, thanks though.”

“It’ll probably leave a nasty bruise,” Adam replied as he helped Sam over the fence, before turning to look at the car. “Looks like the ghost is gone.”

“Yeah…” Sam replied uncertainly.

“Come on,” said Adam, walking around the car. Sam watched as Adam opened the trunk, and began looking through their supplies. A moment later he picked up a pair of what looked like knifes in holsters, and passed one to Sam.

Sam pulled the knife out to see that the blade was made of pure salted iron.

“A little invention of mine,” Adam said a moment later. “it’s easier to carry around than bars of iron or bags of salt. If you see the ghost, just stick that in her and she’ll leave.”

“Huh, good idea,” Sam replied as he unwound his belt to put the holster on.

“Thanks,” Adam replied with a grin.

When Dean came back they waited as he did a thorough check over the Impala.

“So what’s the verdict,” asked Adam with a grin when it seemed he was finished. “Will she live?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Dean replied gruffly as he closed the hood. “Whatever she did to it, it seems alright now. That Constance chick, What **A** _ **BITCH**_ _ **!**_ ”

“Well she doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure.” Sam commented as he looked down the bridge.

The three of them sat down on the hood.

“So where’s the trail go from here, genius?” He asked a moment later.

Dean flopped his hands up in an admission of defeat, and Sam shook his head, before sniffing the air.

“You smell like a toilet,” Sam commented a moment later.

Adam sniffed him as well. “Yeah, the town must empty their sewage in that river, or something.”

Dean wiped a bit of the muck off, before sniffing it. “Oh, _gross!_ ”

**Adam**

By some coincidence, it turned out that John had bought out a room for a whole month at the same motel we had intended to get a room at, or so the manager told us, which was why I was standing watch with Dean while Sam picked the lock to John’s room.

My first impression of the room after Sam had pulled us in was: _God this place is a mess_.

There were books littered everywhere, what looked like investigation notes were tacked to the walls, a bit of half-eaten food on the counter-top, and what looked like paranormal detection equipment on an unkempt bed, along with an empty suitcase.

“I don’t think he’s been for a couple days at least,” said Dean after he picked up and sniffed a wrapper of half-eaten burger.

Sam dug his fingers in a salt line on the floor. “Salt. Cats-eyed shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in.”

I investigated the bed. There was some expensive equipment here. “He must have left in a hurry. This isn’t the kind of stuff you leave behind unless it’s an emergency.”

Dean looked at some of the notes tacked to the wall, and Sam walked up to stand beside him. “What do you got here?”

“Centennial Highway Victims,” Dean replied as he looked at the different notes. “I don’t get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, age, ethnicities. There’s always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?”

Sam walked back to look at the other walls, while I investigated the table behind the window, shifting aside some of the books.

“Dad figured it out,” said Sam after turning on a lamp.

“What do you mean?” asked Dean, turning around.

“He found the same article we did,” Sam explained. “Constance Welch. She’s a Woman in White.”

While they’d been talking, I had found what I had been looking for, John’s journal. I opened it and found the note John had left for Dean. Dean’s name, with a set of coordinates.

“Dad’s gone,” I said, looking at the note. “Dad’s left Jericho.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dean, turning around to look at me. I turned around and handed John’s journal to him.

“Dad’s journal!” said Dean in surprise.

“But… he doesn’t go anywhere without that,” said Sam in confusion.

“There’s a note inside, coordinates,” I said, scratching the back of my head.

Dean opened the journal and rifled through it, finding the note a moment later. “Oh, the same old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he’s going.”

“We’ll have to find out where they point to,” Sam mused, still looking at the journal.

“Right, but we’ve got a Woman in White to deal with first,” said Dean, turning around and looking at the article that was pinned on the wall. “We gotta dig up her corpse, and do a little salt and burn. Does it say where she’s buried?”

“No, not that I can tell,” Sam replied. “We could go ask her husband, if he’s still alive.”

“Hmm.” Dean frowned thoughtfully. “All right, why don’t you see if you can find an address, I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”

While they had been talking, I had walked over to the mirror, having noticed a picture of a younger John with a younger Sam and Dean.

“Wait, no,” I said, turning around after I grabbed the picture. “Dad left in a hurry, he didn’t even pack up. He must have had a good reason for leaving all this stuff behind. I don’t think we should linger here. You can get cleaned up somewhere else.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“He has a good point,” said Sam. “We should go.”

Dean shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Ok, lets go.”

I had, of course, known that the cops were on their way here, and apparently we had left just in time, as half a minute after we had gotten in the car and pulled onto the road, we saw the cops pull into the parking lot.

“You think they were here for us?” asked Sam as we drove by.

“Maybe,” Dean replied thoughtfully.

**OO)SCENE-BREAK(OO**

We stopped at an old gas station, where Dean decided to use the restroom to clean up. While we waited, Sam and I decided to use the time productively: Sam was looking for Joseph Welch’s current location, while I was looking up the coordinates John had left us.

“Hey Sam, can you double check this for me, make sure I got it right?” I asked after carefully checking over the location. “I don’t think I got it right.”

I of course had gotten it right, but I also knew that John wasn’t at the coordinates that he had left us, but that was a result of my knowledge of Canon. Sam and Dean didn’t know that, however, so in order to lead them in the right direction, I would sometimes have to act the confused kid.

“Sure, hand it over,” Sam replied, holding up his hand, and I passed over the map and tools I’d been using.

“No, I’m pretty sure you got this right, Adam.” said Sam a few minutes later. “It’s Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” I replied in a confused tone. “There’s nothing out there but wilderness.”

“Well, Dad went there for some reason,” Sam said, passing the map and tools back. “You can ask him why when you get there.”

“I take it then that you’re not coming with us?” I asked curiously.

“The interview’s on Monday, I’ve gotta be there,” Sam replied crossly.

“Hey, you’ll get no argument from me,” I said, throwing my hands up submissively. “You gotta live your life the way you want it.”

“Heh, yeah. Some times I feel like you’re the only one in this family that gets me, you know?” Sam said contemplatively, looking out the windshield. “Like, you’re the only one who understood why I had to leave. Not like Dean. Not like Dad...”

I rolled my eyes. “Sam, you know he was only mad cause he was scared, right? He was only concerned about keeping you safe, and in his mind, you were only safe if you’re with him or with Dean.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to-” Sam started to say heatedly.

“I get it, I get it,” I rose my hands placatingly. “My point is, Dad understands you more than you think, he was just worried about you. He was worried that he couldn’t keep you safe. He still cares about you, you know? We all do.”

“I know,” Sam looked away.

Thankfully Dean chose that moment to return, properly cleaned up now. As he sat down in the drivers seat, he looked between us, possibly noticing the tension in the air.

“I found the location of the coordinates Dad left us,” I said before Dean had a chance to say anything. “Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. Did you get the address, Sam?”

“Yeah, we can head there now,” said Sam. “Hey, Dean? About what I said earlier, about Mom, and Dad. I’m sorry-”

Dean held his hand up. “No Chick-Flick moments.”

“Alright, Jerk.” Sam snarked.

“Bitch,” Dean replied.

**OO)SCENE-BREAK(OO**

Surprisingly, everything went off without a hitch. We found Mr. Welch, and learned the location of Constance bones from him. Then we went and dug them up, and salted and burned them. It was all rather anti-climatic, so a few hours later we pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment building, unscathed from our little hunt.

After he had gotten out, Sam leaned down to the Impala’s shotgun window. “You’ll call me when you find him? Maybe I can meet up with you guys later, huh?”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean replied.

Sam smiled and turned away.

“Sam!” Dean called a moment later, and Sam turned around. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there, all three of us.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded.

Dean nodded back, before putting the car into gear and driving off. I turned and looked back at Sam as we drove, before we turned a corner and I lost sight of him. A moment later, Dean pulled into the parking lot behind the apartment building and parked.

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.

“I haven't got much sleep the past few days,” Dean replied after yawning. “I was gonna rest up for a bit.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” I replied, yawning myself. I looked at the apartment building, waiting.

A moment later, the building began to smoke.

“Dean, Fire!” I said suddenly, pointing at the apartment building.

Dean, who’d been making himself comfortable in the front seat, sat up. “Shit, Sammy!”

We both got out of the car, and Dean ran as fast as he could to the back door, with me hot on his heels. Strangely enough the back door was already open, so we raced through it, running up to Sam’s apartment.

“SAM!” Dean yelled after kicking the door open. I followed him as he raced to the room the smoke was coming from, and there I saw Jessica, pinned to the ceiling, her mid-section ripped open.

Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him up, as he was doing little more than sitting on the bed, yelling Jessica’s name, and I held the door open as Dean pulled him out.

**OO)SCENE-BREAK(OO**

It was two hours later. The building was only smoking now, as the firefighters and ambulances had arrived and were dealing with the situation. Dean and I watched from the edge of the scene, Dean wearing an expression of disbelief, while I was more grim faced.

After a few minutes watching, Dean turned around and walked back to the Impala, I followed him. There we Sam with trunk of the Impala open, he was loading a rifle. He looked at us with grim determination, before sighing and tossing the rifle back in the trunk.

“We’ve got work to do,” he said, then closed the trunk.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a compiled version of the fic i'm posting over at FF.net. 
> 
> if you want to see some more chapters, go here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13400911/5/The-Youngest-Winchester
> 
> The first four chapters on that fic make up the first chapter here. 
> 
> When Voodoo doll is finished, i'll post it here as a compiled chapter.


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